“Yes,” he said simply.
Iris felt as though she should be grateful, but a hot, sharp anger flared in her chest. She had fought to keep this house standing and to keep herself afloat with whatever little money she had left. It took her seven years to prove herself. Only for someone to undo it all with a signature and a shrug.
“You do not seem happy about this news?” he cocked his head, and she ignored the warmth she felt low in her belly whenever he looked at her.
Iris lifted her chin and struggled to keep her composure. “You can afford to do that because you inherited the title.”
His expression darkened instantly. “Do not insult me with assumptions after I have done you a great favor.” He leaned forward, eyes catching the firelight like a predator’s as he placed the cigar down gently onto the ashtray. “I have no reason to use my title to get my way. I was the second son, and I have been working for two decades to make my own fortune.”
Her breath caught. She had not known that.
His Grace continued coldly. “I expected a thank you for resolving the debt issue.”
Iris swallowed.
He is… right.
“Thank you,” she muttered, barely above a whisper.
His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “You aremostwelcome, Little Blossom.”
She wanted to throw something at him.
He picked up the cigar and took another slow drag. “It must be nice, I imagine. To be taken care of, for once. After your husband tricked you.”
Her heart stopped, and her face heated with anger. She was about to retort with something sharp or clever, but the words died.
“How do you know that?” she asked as calmly as she could while everything collapsed around her.
“I make it my business to know the truth about the people I intend to help.”
“Who told you?” Her voice rose slightly.
“Your solicitor.” His Grace stood at last, and the room seemed smaller for it.
“You spoke to Mr. Earnest?”
“Yes. Do not fret. I have a plan for you, Iris.”
“I do not need a plan because I have my own plan already.” Iris tilted her chin defiantly. She could hardly believe what was happening to her.
The duke nodded but did not acknowledge what she said. “You will have an allowance large enough to live comfortably in the city,” he said matter-of-factly. “While I repair this mess of a house.”
Iris’s throat tightened painfully as tears gathered in her eyes.
“This house may seem neglected to you, but I have been the one to sustain it through my own efforts. Without my care, it would have fallen into ruin years ago. Yes, it is in disarray, but it ismyresponsibility to restore it, and I must do so if I am to find purpose.” The duke listened silently to her as she choked slightly on her words.
Iris kept her head up and her gaze level with his. She could not tell him how worthless she would feel if she lost Hentley House, but she hoped that he would, at the very least, understand her need to complete what she had started.
“Iris,” he eventually said with an unreadable expression. “I care little for sentimentality. Right now, I need efficiency.”
* * *
She believes a house would give her purpose.
Blaise’s jaw ticked with pent-up frustration that his cousin had left behind a beautiful wife with nothing but burdens and that he had made her feel responsible for all of it. He hoped the old geezer was twisting in his grave.
Blaise watched Iris’s amber eyes fill with tears, and he hated that he had to be hard on her. She had lived seven years alone, and he would be damned if he did not help her. But he was aware that she was not a woman who accepted help easily, and he respected that while also finding it maddening.
